


i can't deny your appetite

by intoxicatelou



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cheating, F/F, First Kiss, Mutual Pining, Tenderness, sugar mommy vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:02:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26156197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intoxicatelou/pseuds/intoxicatelou
Summary: Aside from talking and brief, customary hugs, they haven’t done much. Not that they should, because May’s still dating Happy, and it would bewrongeven if she can’t stop dreaming about it — Pepper’s hair, the curve of her smile, her fingers, delicate and poised and always so sure of themselves as they slice steak or use chopsticks or hold a glass of wine —  but it would be wrong
Relationships: Happy Hogan/May Parker (Spider-Man), May Parker (Spider-Man)/Pepper Potts
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11
Collections: Flash Fuck Around 2020





	i can't deny your appetite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GlassesOfJustice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassesOfJustice/gifts).



> <3 a little treat for you! My first actual attempt at femslashy things, I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Set in a Post-Endgame universe where Morgan doesn't exist. Also, background Peter/Tony if you squint. 
> 
> Title is a lyric from the song [Fetish](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R38q_C4NApE) by Selena Gomez.

It was really only supposed to be brunch. Bottomless mimosas and salads in broad daylight, and even that cute waiter that had tried to flirt with her. 

But then Pepper had picked up the tab, her fingers warm on her wrist. “It’s no trouble, May. Please, let me.” 

And sure the place is a little upscale but still within her budget, so if she wanted to May could protest, refuse the offer but it’s the way Pepper says it, _please, let me_ her eyes honey-gold in the light, tender as if May is doing _her_ a favor instead of the other way around. 

“Um. Okay, alright.” May says instead and Pepper smiles, practically radiating as she signs the check, sliding her black card next to what May can only imagine must be an outrageous tip given the flourish of zeros she notices Pepper write. 

— 

It was really only supposed to be brunch, but a week later, May gets the same calendar invitation — well, same time, different place. A quick google search shows that this time the place is no longer upscale but flat out expensive, given it houses not one but two Michelin stars, and May has no doubt that Pepper secured them a reservation. 

She goes because it would be rude not to and it’s not like she’s got much to do on Saturdays considering Peter’s moved out for college and its one of the days that doesn’t line up well for Happy and her schedule considering he works most weekends now that he’s trying to move his way up past asset management, whatever the hell that means. He’s a good man though, kind, loving, and even a little funny. He works hard, even though lately May has to admit the clinginess (seriously, she might look young but May definitely doesn’t enjoy the texting as much as her nephew does) is a little more than she’s used to. It feels good to be wanted, especially after all these years without Ben, but sometimes she wishes the shape of his desire was a little different, a little more aware of itself. 

She tells Pepper as much over her third cocktail, another finely dressed waiter placing desert in front of them. 

“It’s normal to want to go at your own pace,” Pepper says, nodding in understanding. 

“Right? I mean, I’m happy I’m not single, but man are relationships a lot of work these days.” May mutters, but her eyes flutter close as her lips close around a bite of exquisitely delicious matcha green tea ice cream. Pepper had insisted that they try it, even though May’s lost track of the amount of small plates that she’s eaten from in the past two hours. 

“They don’t have to be,” Pepper says, a little quiet and May’s only half sure she’s heard her correctly especially since Pepper’s quick to change the subject, “Isn’t the ice cream good?” 

“So good,” May agrees, spooning another piece of the cold treat into her mouth. “I feel like I could eat a whole pint of this while watching the _Notebook_ in my underwear.” 

To her delight, Pepper laughs, a twinkling sound that May feels stupid for describing as ‘twinkling’ because it’s far more sublime than any synoym that can come directly to mind. 

“We’ll send you home with some. I bet the chef won’t mind. He’s a good friend.” Pepper says. 

“You don’t have to!” May responds, on instinct. 

“May, I _want_ to. If you’ll let me.” And there it is, that same reverence that sends a thrill up May’s spine paired with a look she’s found herself thinking about even as Happy took her out to dinner last night.

“Okay,” May says, taking another bite of her ice cream, hoping Pepper won’t bring up the slight blush in her cheeks. 

Pepper just smiles, dazzling May again even as she calls for the waiter. 

—

When it comes time for Pepper to sign the check, May finds herself smiling too. 

—

It becomes a habit, an almost special routine. After the third Saturday they’d moved past brunch, because Pepper knew just as many good Saturday night dinner places and somehow, before she could wrap her head around it, they were on their tenth date (if May could even call it that, since so far aside from talking and brief, customary hugs, they haven’t done much. Not that they should, because May’s still dating Happy, and it would be _wrong_ even if she can’t stop dreaming about it — Pepper’s hair, the curve of her smile, her fingers, delicate and poised and always so sure of themselves as they slice steak or use chopsticks or hold a glass of wine — but it would be wrong.) 

Somehow it’d been over two months since this ~~affair~~ arrangement began and they talk more now, more than just on Saturdays and enough that May’s surprised they still have things to talk about. 

Some part of May feels as if she should’ve known considering how this all started: the two of them sipping champagne in the corner of Peter’s twenty first birthday party, the one Tony had thrown at the Tower and May had begrudgingly agreed to because Peter kept promising Tony wasn’t half as bad as she thought he was. (And he wasn’t but that doesn’t mean May has to like the man.)

May had been surprised Pepper was even there considering what she’d heard about the divorce from Happy and various tabloids she only half believed. 

“We’re still friends. Even family, if you will.” Pepper had explained, her back against the balcony railing, looking effortlessly beautiful in her red gown. “But he was gone for a long time, and I changed. It’s just not the same for me as it once was.” 

“I get that.” In a strange way, May understood. Not that she has any hope of Ben coming back into her life, but it’s a dream she’s imagined more than once. She isn’t the same woman that lost him all those years ago, and the inevitable grief had changed her, for better or worse, who’s to say. 

“It’s a weird thing to admit to yourself that you’ve got different needs than the ones you pictured yourself having.” Pepper said, “I used to think I had it all figured out, but now I’ve just got more questions.” 

“It’s okay to have questions,” May said, leaning closer to Pepper. She hadn’t been thinking of anything then, only that there was something honest in the woman in front of her, a familiar loneliness that May found herself pulled to.

But then Peter had walked in, all sweaty and glittery and talking too fast about cake, and the moment had faded to the background. Except before they walked back to join the rest of the party, Pepper’s fingers had found her wrist, her voice gentle, “We should do this again. Maybe over brunch or something.” 

“Sure,” May had said, only a little surprised. She didn’t have many close girl friends to begin with, and those she did have knew nothing about her nephew’s double life or the frankly outrageous things May’s been witness to these last couple of years since Tony Stark walked into their life. 

“Great, I’ll send you the details.” Pepper beamed, and sure enough, there’d been an email in her inbox not two days later. 

And now almost two months from that first brunch date, May was standing in the lobby of a too expensive french restaurant wearing a too expensive[ red dress ](https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50274059772_7c0d2ba376_z.jpg) she’d originally bought for a charity gala but decided to put on for Pepper Potts instead. 

She’s barely stepped inside _Per Se_ before a hostess is greeting her warmly. “You must be May Parker,” The girl says, and May thinks she must be just a little older than Peter. “Ms. Potts told us to keep an eye out for you.” 

“Yes, that’s me.” May says, a little surprised and the hostess smiles. “My name is Erica, and if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your seat. Ms. Potts is waiting for you.” 

“That’ll be great,” May responds, as she walks with Erica, moving quickly past the immaculately dressed crowd. She’s glad she went with her charity gala dress than something more normal from her wardrobe.

“Wow,” Pepper says, putting down her flute of champagne when she sees May.

May wants to do something silly like twirl around, and maybe if she’d been any younger, she would’ve. “You don’t look too bad yourself,” May jokes, as if the other woman wasn’t aware of how gorgeous she looked in a perfect fitting black sleeveless turtleneck dress. 

May didn’t want to even guess at how expensive the diamonds studding her ears must be. The picture of elegance, Pepper Potts. 

“Red suits you,” Pepper says with a warm grin as May sits down, Erica pouring her another glass of champagne. 

“You too,” May can’t help but chirp back, blushing as Pepper gives her one of those genuine, neck tilting laughs. 

—

It’s a wonderful night, like any other. Familiar, full of inside jokes, and tiny plates of beautiful food that leave May breathless and full.

She’s a little more tipsy than usual but it’s not like May’s going to pass up sips of thousand dollar bottles of champagne, nor the pleased glint in Pepper’s eyes when she’d agreed to let the woman indulge her with another bottle. 

“You’ll love it,” Pepper had said, before effortlessly calling over a waiter and ordering in fluent french. 

May had tried to hide how her eyes widened, but Pepper, like always, had picked up even on the smallest details when it came to her. 

“Have you ever been to France, May?” 

“Once,” Ben had taken her for their honeymoon. It’d been a blissful week, so much that May could imagine them retiring there, just off the coast, soaked in sand and sun. “A long time ago.” 

Gratefully, Pepper hadn’t prodded further because desert had arrived and May could privately daydream further about walking the French Riviera again, this time with Pepper by her side, as she spooned bites of a truly exquisite crème brûlée in her mouth. 

—

  
  


“Do you want to come to mine for a nightcap?” Pepper asks when they’d pulled out of the parking garage, the city sparkling in front of them. She’d agreed to carpool and let Pepper’s driver take her home, even though Queens was a bit out of her way back. 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude —” 

“You could never intrude May, please.” and May can feel the heat of Pepper’s thigh against her own where they’re sitting next to each other despite the area of the expansive backseat. 

Truth is, there’s nothing more May wants than to intrude. But she shouldn’t. She shouldn’t because if she wanted to, she could reach out and brush her fingers against Pepper’s palm and then drag those fingers downwards from where they sit in her lap, until her hands are rucking up that impossibly tight dress, moving towards what she’s dreamt about for the last three weeks —

“May,” Pepper repeats, almost a whisper and May shouldn’t but she does.

“Okay.”

—

It happens slower than May imagines it. 

They make it upstairs, talking about May’s non profit work and Pepper’s last fiscal quarter, the upcoming election, shopping. It’s endless, their banter, as Pepper makes them some Hot Toddies. 

The drink is warm, but Pepper’s fingers as they linger against the back of her hand are warmer. 

May can’t believe she’s still on the fence about kissing her. And maybe that’s the wrong choice of words, because her uncertainty isn’t decisive as much as it’s just nerves. Part shame, maybe, but more so, part unadulterated desire — the kind May hasn’t felt in months, its raw, gnawing edge. 

As silly as it sounds, May’s waiting for the right moment, even though where they’re at right now — half curled into each other with their heels off, legs overlapping on Pepper’s frankly outrageously large couch — is pretty close to perfect. 

And then: 

“We could go, you know.” Pepper says, out of seemingly nowhere, her cheeks flushed. “To France.” 

“Pepper,” May says, pausing, unsure if she’d heard the other woman correctly. 

“I can take you. I’m pretty sure we still have a villa in the Riviera. Unused of course, because getting Tony to go on vacations was worse than pulling teeth.”

May’s eyes widen, her mouth opening in silence. 

“It can be like a girls trip. Like, it doesn’t have to be just us.” Pepper continues, rambling, and May can read the worry in the way her fingers tighten around her cup. “I don’t have that many close women in my life, but if you do, you know, maybe we could connect —”

May doesn’t know where she places her cup, only that her fingers end up tangled in Pepper’s hair, the other woman’s mouth hot and gasping against her own. It’s an intense kiss, deep, biting, wet — a push and pull until Pepper’s in her lap, breathless and beautiful. 

“Wow, I’m so glad you were thinking of the same thing,” Pepper says, in between kisses. “I really wasn’t sure — for a moment there — _May_ — If I was doing things the right way.” 

“You were perfect,” May murmurs, and then adds, “You are perfect.” because she can. 

It’s worth it for the way Pepper blushes, kissing her hard.


End file.
